


Lost Luggage

by Galahard



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Harry's luggage is lost, M/M, Very light on the relationship stuff, wow how informative that was
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 05:42:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3638904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galahard/pseuds/Galahard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's luggage is lost by the airline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost Luggage

**Author's Note:**

> Try not to be too impressed by my summarizing skills. As always, I am Galahard on tumblr as well, feel free to chat with me at either place!

Harry Hart hated public flights.

They rarely used them, and for good reason. There was the matter of getting to the airport hours in advance, sitting cramped in a small seat when ordinarily he would have been lounging in luxury, and the fact that he couldn’t take an entire arsenal with him wherever he went.

But sometimes it was necessary. They had enough weapons were disguised as other items that they could get them through security, and there wasn’t always a pilot available when they were. They couldn’t always take Merlin. So if he was going anywhere he could travel by train, that was his preferred method.

He couldn’t reach Northern Ireland by train. Sure, there was the ferry, but by the time he took a train and ferry he couldn’t justify the lost time, and Eggsy actually enjoyed the flights.

So here they were, in Northern Ireland, and Harry was very determinedly not yelling at the poor woman across the counter from him. Barely. “So, you’re telling me that after two hours of delays and switching planes twice before we even left London that your company has managed to misplace my luggage as well?”

She kept feeding him obviously memorized lines and he could almost feel his blood pressure going up, knowing it wasn’t her fault but still thinking longingly of Valentine’s waves that would excuse him for the carnage that he wanted to cause.

Then there was a hand at his arm. “Harry, we’ve got to fucking move if we’re going to make it to dinner.”

Right. Dinner. Their mission.

He turned away, disgruntled, and they headed off, now almost late for their appointment because of all the delays.

\----------

He dove, rolling when he hit and gunshots tore past him as he managed to get behind a filing cabinet and up to his feet. There had been a room of people no one had known about, an additional six guards they were not prepared for, and they were short on weapons. He could hear Eggsy on the floor above him, but more people were moving in, soon enough he’d be surrounded on three sides.

One last Ignite the Night, and not room enough to use it properly. So he waited, waited until they were two close and turning away as sent out a blast of flames, hearing screams fill the air and heat on his back.

Still heat on his back. Swearing he ripped off his suit jacket before dropping to the ground, rolling onto his back to smother any flames that might have lingered. All three enemies were down so when he made it back to his feet he took a glance over his shoulder and swore at the holes in his clothing.

\---------

Their mission had been in the middle of the night, and there was no where to go to purchase replacements. Of course, if they’d had a private flight, his luggage wouldn’t have been lost. They snuck back into their hotel, Eggsy following close behind him to try to hide the charred and damaged clothing, making it up to their room before Harry stalked to the loo, refusing to talk about it and only emerging when he was showered and wearing the hotel’s robe, clothing in the trash, burn marks eating their way through everything but his pants, which were still a bit charred.

“Hey.” Trust Eggsy not to let this slide, but tonight he didn’t want to deal with it.

“What?” His voice was like a whip, lashing out, but Eggsy didn’t seem phased.

“Were there any burns?” Harry was silent for a second too long and Eggsy sighed. “Get on the bed and let me take a look at them.”

He almost rolled his eyes and realized he’d learned far too many habits from the young man.

Laying on his stomach, letting Eggsy peel back the robe to examine his back as he straddled him, rubbing on some of the first aid ointment that hadn’t been lost in his baggage, he found himself relaxing for the first time since they’d left London. Strong hands moved from dressing his rather minor wounds to massaging his neck and shoulders, and he found himself drifting into sleep as hands and lips brushed over his skin.

\---------

“No.”

“It’s the only thing that’s going to work.”

Harry stared at him, knowing he was right. “We just won’t take the first flight then. We’ll wait for a later flight and you can go pick something suitable up when the shops open.”

“It’s Roxy’s birthday today, yeah? I’ve fucking got to get back. Put. It. On.”

He looked at the items in Eggsy’s hands. What he’d worn on the flight over, comfortable clothing, and he was going to look ridiculous. Maybe if he could get away with just the polo. “Are we sure the suit…”

"It ain’t going to fit bruv. Just put it on.”

With a glower he snatched the clothing and stalked to the wc. It was a matter of easing himself into the jeans, sucking in his stomach to get them to fasten and swearing as they hugged his thighs and fell just short of where he needed them to be around his ankles. The polo went on easier, and after trying it both ways several times he grudgingly put on the jacket. He had too many scars littering his arms for him to show them in public. Plus if he glanced at them he’d think of the way that Eggsy liked to trace them with his tongue, sucking marks near them when Harry would allow it, and his trousers were much too tight for him to have those sorts of thoughts in public.

He ripped open the door and stalked past Eggsy, not needing to look to know that the young man was grinning cheekily and probably staring at his arse. “If I hear one word,” he groused, “you’re not getting anything, and I mean anything, for a month.”

“Yes Harry.”


End file.
